


The Living Valhalla

by DahliaVanDare



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Everything is consensual, F/M, Naive, Nux Lives, Post-Canon, Sexual Content, Sinkhole, Slit Lives, Smut, Swearing, Virgin Slit, even if a misunderstanding got them there, non-graphic injury, original slang, the War Boys have learned about consent, they're both totally on board and enjoying everything
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-25
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-04-11 02:58:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4418447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DahliaVanDare/pseuds/DahliaVanDare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"By Slit’s count it had been a thousand days since Joe died, since the Godkillers took over the Citadel. A number of the women had chosen to share their beds with Boys during that time. War Boys, Repair Boys, Medical Boys, Farmer Boys, the Living Valhalla that some of them started whispering about finding in those beds was not limited to one class, not like Joe’s Valhalla for only those who died historic."<br/>----<br/>Slit's curious about what the women do with their Boys, but he isn't exactly what any of them is looking for in a bedmate. But then...<br/>----<br/>This is consistent with my other fics "Under the Skin" and "Beginning Anew at the Citadel"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day 1000

By Slit’s count it had been a thousand days since Joe died, since the Godkillers took over the Citadel. A number of the women had chosen to share their beds with Boys during that time. War Boys, Repair Boys, Medical Boys, Farmer Boys, the Living Valhalla that some of them started whispering about finding in those beds was not limited to one class, not like Joe’s Valhalla for only those who died historic.

Godkiller Capable, of course, had Nux, had been letting him sleep beside her since the Medical Boys had declared him healthy enough to leave one of their cots. Nux had refused to tell even Slit what they got up to, although after a few dozen days of his Lancer needling him he did admit that it was pleasant. Godkiller Toast had spent time with several Boys, as far as they could tell considering them for bedmates, and bitten each of them when she lost patience. Slit had noticed that she seemed to have very little patience, and after she rejected the first Boy, sending him away with two crescents of tiny marks on his bicep, Slit thought it odd that her other rejects were surprised to get the same. Maybe one hundred days after the last bite, she’d found a Boy she did let sleep beside her, and he’d stayed beside her ever since. Toast’s Boy didn’t whisper to the others about anything, but he did seem serenely happy. Godkiller Furiosa slept alone.

Some of the Boys chosen by former Milk Mothers or former Wretched had been a little more forthcoming, so Slit and the others now knew that the women did not have drains like they did, and that the women could allow them glimpses of the Living Valhalla somehow by use of the Boys’ drains. Slit and the others could tell from the Boys’ expressions and the way they spoke about it that it was something good, but they just did not have the words to explain more. A few Boys did seem to know what the bedmate Boys were talking about, but they were the least interested in talking about the women and would usually leave with their War Partners soon after the topic came up.

Slit thought he might have liked to try this Living Valhalla thing for himself, but being chosen as a bedmate seemed like a lot of work. Boys would coordinate their meal breaks with the woman who chose them. He would see the ones who were skilled at making things saving little scraps and fashioning them into surprises. One of the former Milk Mothers who grew things wore a small curved knife with a lizard skin grip that her Boy had made her. Even some of the ones who weren’t good at it would try. Toast had a necklace of misshapen bullet casings her Boy had strung together. Slit didn’t think he could stand anyone seeing proof he was so mediocre at something, but other than lancing the only thing Slit was all that good at was marking skin, so unless some woman wanted scars of her own (and Nux’s chest really was a good example of how beautiful the work could be) Slit didn’t have much to offer.

\----

There was something shiny out in the desert. A lookout thought they’d seen a glint at sunset, and as the shadows started growing from their midday nothing, they could see it for sure. Furiosa put together a recon party to check it out; Nux to drive and Slit riding lancer, and Furiosa and a few other Boys on bikes.

As they got closer they could pick out that the shine was part of the exposed portion of a building from the before times. There was a spire, stuccoed the same color as the sand, and next to it a patch of exposed shingle, the roof slanting down and then rising again to peak over the thing they had seen shine. It was like nothing Slit had ever seen before, a patchwork of different colors, all reflecting like a windshield in the sun. The bikes spread out to check around it, but Nux drove straight toward the colors.

From his lancing perch on the front of the car, Slit had an alarmingly good view of the sinkhole opening up beneath them. He tried to jump clear, yelling for Nux to get out before the car was swallowed up. Even the sand where Slit landed was shifting and pulling him toward the car and the sinkhole. Slit scrambled to pull himself further away, but it's hard to crawl through moving sand. Just then one of the others threw him a line, and he held on for his life. As Furiosa pulled him to safety, he glanced back at the car to see that it was sinking front end first and was halfway to sticking straight up in the sand. Nux had apparently scrambled out the window, and was standing on the open window frame, hanging on to the lancing handholds on the rear. Dragged back to firm ground, Slit lay at Furiosa’s feet as she threw the rope back out to Nux. When Nux jumped from the car, the sand dragged at his feet, but the rope kept him moving forward.

“With a rig we could probably tow it out, maybe dig down a little to see if there’s anything useful from the before times, but everybody’ll need tethers,” she said.

Nux flopped on the ground next to Slit and took his boots off to dump out the sand. Slit’s skin was raw and stinging where the sand had gotten through his paint. He sat up with a grunt and emptied his boots too. As they stood up, Slit noticed his pockets had even filled with sand. He dug around for the couple tools and things he knew were in them and handed those over to Nux. He quickly took off his pants and turned them upside-down, dumping the sand. Even in the brief time he was out of his pants he could feel the harsh sun warm his buttocks, and was glad he’d been thorough with his war paint. When Slit pulled his pants back on, he could feel how much lighter they were without the sand.

Nux rode with Jumper, while Slit got on Furiosa's bike with her. His arms wrapped easily around her waist as she drove, and he was glad nothing was rubbing against his sandburns. They went over some bumpy terrain and Slit instinctively tightened his grip. Furiosa twitched, and Slit realized he might have brushed against one of her lumps. He understood they weren't disease lumps, the women just have them, but maybe they were sensitive anyway. He tried to let go of her, but just as his hands came off of her body the bike went over a bigger bump and he had to grab back on. Slit didn't want to accidentally touch her somewhere sensitive again, so he scooted up so his chest was against her back and slid his hands down to hold on to the insides of her thighs instead. There, he thought, resting his cheek against her shoulder blade, nice and secure, and completely avoiding her lumps. She shifted her hips and pressed against him a little more.

Just then, his drain started to malfunction. It had happened before, the usually pliable part suddenly stiffens and won't work for a while. It's been happening to him for longer than he's been a War Boy, and he'd managed to hide it up until now, avoid going to the Organic Mechanic about it, but flush against Furiosa, she must feel it, must know that his body is mediocre. She and the other Godkillers always said they wanted the Boys to be healthy, to take care of themselves so they could take care of the Citadel, and now she would find him lacking. He was ashamed, and it was even worse that it was Furiosa, the one he most admired and looked up to. He had been excited to ride with her, really even a bit more than he would have expected to be since she hadn't invited him as some great honor, but to be practical. And now his mediocre body had betrayed him. He scrunched his eyes closed and tried to hide his face against her back.

When they got back to the Citadel, Slit got off the bike and shook himself out. A brisk walk and a little time and his drain should fix itself.

"Just sandburns or do you need to go to Medical?" Furiosa asked.

"Oh no, sandburns, no Medical." War Boys don't get scared, and Slit certainly wasn't scared of the Medical Boys. Definitely not.

"Are you, still sleeping in the bunks?"

"Yeah, got one to myself without Nux," Slit had missed the company at first, but now he enjoyed the luxury of a space of his own to spread out.

"Come with me, I'll help you clean those sandburns. The ones on your back'll be hard for you to reach," Furiosa beckoned with her head and Slit followed her. They climbed up through the Citadel, picking up a jug of water on the way. To his relief, the fit passed and his drain returned to normal.

They entered a room with a cot, a table, and a bench. There was even a notch in the wall letting in sunlight. Furiosa closed the door behind them, set the jug on the table, and removed her metal arm.

"Sit."

Slit sat on the bench. Furiosa put water on a cloth and started gently cleaning the raw skin on his back.

"So it's no paint for what, two days?"

Slit nodded. He'd wondered at first at Medical's rule changes after the Godkillers took over, but wounds really did seem to heal faster if you didn't immediately rub gritty white war paint in to them.

Furiosa cleaned her way up his back and over his shoulders, lingering on his well developed throwing muscles. She propped his hand on her hip and cleaned off one arm, then did the same on his other arm. She rinsed the cloth with more water from the jug. 

"Head next, close your eyes."

Slit obeyed, realizing as she rang the cloth out over his head that she had moved on to cleaning parts he could definitely do himself. He was going to say something, but then she started scrubbing his scalp, and it felt good. She could keep cleaning him if she wanted to. Slit could feel his muscles relaxing, he leaned into her touch, then realized it was his whole body leaning and straightened up before he tumbled himself off the bench. Furiosa gave a little chuckle and rinsed the cloth again. She moved to stand directly in front of him and hung the cloth over his left shoulder. He looked up at her to see if she intended him to take care of the rest of the paint himself. Her eyes locked on his. She placed her hand firmly on an unmarred patch of skin, and straddled him like a bike. Before, when she had squeezed the water over his head a trickle had run down his nose, and now Furiosa was wiping it’s full path from his forehead down to the tip. She delicately cleaned the scar across one cheek, then moved on to his lips, before continuing her gentle attentions on the other side of his face. The scars themselves were largely without feeling, and her gentleness meant that he was unable to exactly follow her progress by feel, so he had been surprised when she scrubbed the cloth over his upper and then lower lips. The sensation left them tingling and wanting something in a way washing himself never did. Slit studied her face wondering what she did differently. She looked him in the eye, as intense as any staredown, but there was no malice in it. Then she put her mouth on his, dropping the wet cloth so she could wrap her long fingers around the back of his head, her half arm around his shoulder, her body pressed up against him. Slit wasn’t sure what she was up to, but he was on board. This was very good.

Slit wrapped his arms around her. He wanted to have her there as long as she’d stay, to pull her inside of himself and keep this feeling forever and have more, more, m-

He felt his drain malfunction again. It never happened twice in a row like this, he was dying for sure! He broke off from her mouth and let his arms fall from her body with an anguished groan.

"What-?”

“Don’t make me go to Medical,” he breathed, with none of his usual bravado, “Just let me die quiet, I’ll stay out of the way, I promise.”

“Die? Are you hurt?” she leaned back to look at him better, but the shift rubbed against his jammed drain and he choked out a strange noise. He must be going faster than he thought, because that pressure didn’t hurt, it felt good, felt like it was fulfilling a need, like clawing at itchy ’sect bites until he broke the skin.

“Sick, it’s broken, I knew I should have gone to Medical, knew it from the first time, but I couldn’t go. I know you want us healthy not sick and I’m mediocre for it, but I can’t go to Medical, I can’t I’m-” he was babbling, sounded like he might start to cry, Furiosa put her fingers on his lips to slow him down so he’d take a breath, let her get a question in.

“I know a little bit, field medicine, tell me what it is and maybe I can help you without you going to Medical.” As she spoke she ran her fingers from his lips along his cheek and down his neck. He seemed comforted by her touch, but it would be like giving shade to a man starving in the waste if she didn’t find out what was wrong with him. “What hurts?” she asked softly.

“Nothing hurts, it’s my drain, it… malfunctions,” he gestured toward the bulk in his pants that was still pressed between them. She moved back a little to give it some space.

“Your drain, it gets stiff?”

Slit nodded.

“What makes it happen?”

“Don’t know, some sickness?”

"And then what?"

"Nothing. I wait a while and it goes back to normal."

"Does it give you any other problems? Does it leak? Or have lumps? Does it bleed?"

Slit furrowed his brow. "No, just this.”

“It happened just now, and it happened when you were behind me on the bike?”

So she had noticed. Slit hung his head “Yeah.”

“I don’t think you’re dying, not from your drain.”

“Then what is wrong with me?”

“Well Slit, they didn’t give you quite enough information,” Furiosa said gently. “You know a War Boy can be good at two things?”

“Like Nux, he can drive and black thumb.”

“Yes, well, your parts can be good for two things too, like your mouth, you talk with it and you use it to eat?”

“And that other thing, what you were doing.” And if he wasn’t about to die he wanted to do more of it. He put his hands around her waist, pulling her closer and rubbing his face in her neck.

Furiosa hummed her approval. When he paused she got back to the topic at hand. “Yeah, kissing. Your drain is good for two things too. Draining,”

“And the Living Valhalla?”

“Is that what the Boys are calling it these days?” Slit could hear the smile in her voice.

“It’s something pleasant the women do to their bedmate Boys’s drains, isn’t that what you’re talking about?” He moved to look at her face.

“Sounds right. Your drain has to be hard for,” she puffed out another half laugh, “the Living Valhalla. It stiffens when your body thinks there’s the possibility.”

The implication of her words shifted into place, that his drain had acted up close to her in hopes she would show him the Living Valhalla. He very much wanted to keep doing pleasant things with her, whether she'd show it to him or not, and she would probably stop the "kissing" if his drain made her mad… “Was my body wrong when it thought you might show me?”

Furiosa looked at him appraisingly, then broke into a wicked grin. “We’ll see.” And she leaned down and started kissing him again. Slit rubbed his hands up and down her back, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. Slit kissed back harder, hungrily, and something wet touched his lips, what, her tongue? He opened his mouth to her and oh! Her tongue definitely qualified as very good. He dug his fingers in to her back and moaned. She hooked her ankles together around his ass and pulled herself right up against his body, his chest, his already stiff drain. As their tongues wrestled, her fingers traced up his spine and along the muscles of his back. Slit ran his hands up her body and in to her close cropped hair. It felt soft and bristly as he rubbed his hands on it. He remembered how it had felt when she cleaned his scalp, and tried to mimic those motions on her head while they kissed, but sometimes she did something just right and all he could do was just hold her there.

She ground her pelvis on to his hard drain and oh, that was so good too. He ran his hands from the top of her head down to her perfect luscious curves that he still could hardly believe were on his lap and squeezed with both hands. He tore himself away from her mouth to pepper kisses down her neck. She groaned appreciatively and he buried his face in the join of her neck and shoulder, smelling her, which made her laugh. He liked her laugh, but he wanted to hear her make the other noise again. He ran his tongue along her collarbone and squeezed her ass. He kissed down to the neckline of her top and wetted from there all the way up her neck in one long lick. She moaned and rubbed against him more vigorously. He licked again, up to her ear and nibbled. “Take it off, my top,” she breathed. Slit was eager to obey. He tugged at the back and the front, but didn’t seem to be making headway. “Hurry up,” she growled. In response to her urgency, he ripped her shirt down the middle. Furiosa kissed his mouth fiercely. Slit gripped her sides. “Touch them,” she hissed, nudging his arm in with her elbow. Slit put his hands under the fabric and cupped her lumps. He gingerly squeezed, and was rewarded with her moan, still growl-like as they kissed. He tried to be gentle, but then she sucked on his tongue and he squeezed her harder by accident. She seemed to enjoy it, and the kissing continued. When she stopped for breath, he kissed down her neck again. He wanted to see her lumps.

He pushed the two halves of the fabric apart and looked at them. Her skin there was pale. One was perfectly smooth, while the other was pitted with small scars, shrapnel, because she was a shine warrior. They were both beautiful, a beauty that grabbed him and he wanted to rub his face in it, so he did. Her snicker turned into a gasp when his nuzzling pressed her raised nipple. He did it again and then started his hand to work on her other side as the attention to her nipple elicited a groan and more fevered rubbing against his drain. He rubbed her nipples, mmm, this was, kissed them, so good, rubbed, he wanted, rubbed licked, to never, licked licked, have to stop.

She was grinding her hips in a circular motion and grabbed his face with her hand and brought it up to where she could kiss it. Her lips were insistent. She licked the scars inside his cheeks and he moaned into her mouth. “Your hands, don’t stop,” and he rubbed both her nipples in fast little circles and kissed her again. He hoped oh yes! there it was again, her tongue on the inside of his scars, and now she was the one having her tongue sucked. They continued kissing and her movements on him became more erratic. “Oh, ooh!” He enjoyed the sounds she made, squeezed her lumps vigorously while he worked her nipples with his thumbs. Her movement against his drain was bigger but her pelvis lost it’s rhythm. She shook and her mouth left his and she collapsed, panting against him, her head on his shoulder as she managed to breath out “Good, that was so good, oh! Oh that was so good...”

He put his arms around her again. He nuzzled her neck and held her while he waited for her to recover. When she had gone from frenzied panting to deep breaths punctuated by the occasional small moan, he decided that she was probably fine it was just that showing him had taken a lot out of her. He adjusted his hold on her and stood up. He carried her the couple steps to her cot and laid her down on it. As he kissed her lips, her hand came up to stroke his cheek and trace his scar. He hefted himself off from where he leaned on the cot, and collected the cloth so he could continue cleaning himself.

First he finished his face, then he scrubbed his way down his chest. He removed his pants for the second time that day, and even though she had been their the first time, this was different. Before he hadn’t even thought whether anyone was watching, let alone checked if someone was, but now that he was alone with her, after what they did, he hoped she was looking at him undressed. He dared a peek over his shoulder at her, and she was looking. She lay on her back with her arms underneath her head, watching him through half-closed eyes as he scrubbed the paint from the outside of his leg, the hint of a smile at the corners of her lips. He remembered how much he had wanted to see her lumps, how much he still wanted to see the rest of her undressed, and thought maybe she wanted to see him too, so he turned so he faced her. His whole body was there for her perusal, the scars, the muscle, his stiff drain still bumping against his stomach when he bent and scrubbed the paint from his other leg. After he was clean, he put his pants and boots back on and went over to Furiosa on her cot. He kissed her and she made a small, pleased growl. Before opening the door he turned back, “Thank you, for showing me the Living Valhalla,” and he left.

\----

It had been a thousand days since the Godkillers took over the Citadel. Godkiller Furiosa still slept alone, but Slit knew when she wanted him, she could find him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't set out to write a story where Slit is Virginia from "Only the Good Die Young" by Billy Joel, but one thing lead to another and here we are.


	2. Day 1000-1001

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: I'm not sure how to tag it, but there are some expressive phrases that seem kind of violent, but they are illustrating intensity of (positive) feeling, no one is hurting anybody or being malicious. More of a "you can take the despot out of the Citadel but you can't take the war out of the War Boy/Imperator".  
> Also there is discussion of consent.
> 
> Also, Slit is less of a lizard and more of a constrictor snake.

She had been sure he was putting moves on her on the bike, flexing his bicep against her breast, running his hands down her body, pressing his broad chest - not to mention his “drain”- against the back of her while his hands teased her inner thighs. Even when he claimed he was going to die, yes part of her believed in his fear, but part figured it was probably a line, an opening for her to help reenact some sort of fantasy of his. But then he hadn't come. She had thought he was coming just ahead of her after she had tongued the scars inside his mouth, but then when he had undressed it had been clear she was mistaken. The thought of him naked was very distracting, and she sighed. She hoped she’d be seeing him that way again, having access to his uncovered body, touching him in the ways he’d never been touched. But that brought her back to the crux of the issue; it seemed like he really hadn’t known about what they’d been doing, about what they could do. His well honed body drew her, but it seemed like he truly was an innocent.

The image of Slit, the hardened warrior, as some naive babe in the wheels was hilarious, and she couldn’t quite squash the laughter it elicited. But she still didn’t want to take advantage of him. One of the reasons she hadn’t taken a Boy before, hadn’t even looked for one, was she didn’t want any Boy to feel like he was required to be with her. Just because she wasn’t an Immortan with a vault didn’t mean a Boy mightn’t feel the weight of her position behind any request. But Slit hadn’t seemed intimidated…

Furiosa made a point of eating with Capable and Nux that night. Slit was sitting with some other Lancers, his uncovered skin sticking out among their white paint, the color contrast and his movements catching her eye repeatedly during the meal.

“I spoke with Slit earlier today,” she said casually, “And I was wondering, he’s a straight shooter?”

“Best Lancer in the Citadel!” Nux immediately proclaimed. He paused, “That’s not what you were asking, is it?”

Furiosa shook her head.

“He’s not a liar, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Capable supplied.

“V8 no! He might exaggerate for a good story sometimes, but he tells the truth!” Nux actually seemed distressed she would ask that about his Lancer.

“So he wouldn’t feign ignorance or pretend to be, I don’t know, frightened?”

Nux barked out a laugh “Slit, pretending to be frightened? He wouldn’t even know how. He’s never been scared of anything. Not ever.”

“Fair enough, bad example, but if he’s happy he’d say he’s happy and if he’s mad he’d say he’s mad, even if someone wouldn’t like it, even to me?”

“Well yeah, why wouldn’t he. Happy is happy. Mad is mad.”

Even after all her years among War Boys, sometimes she still forgot it was so simple to them.

\----

Furiosa slept sound that night, secure that even if he had been unaware of the details of the Living Valhalla, he had been more than willing to pursue it with her.

In the morning she assigned a crew to go out, retrieve the car, see if they could investigate the building without being buried. She didn't accompany; too much Citadel business. Before she got started, she'd just nip over and talk to Slit.

As she passed through the armory corridor, Slit backed out of a doorway up ahead of her, hands spread in front of his chest. An Explosives Boy was chasing him.

“I’m going!” he grumbled.

“Damn right you are; No paint no powder! I don’t want to smell your scorched hide!” scolded the white painted figure brandishing a half-finished explosive lance.

He muttered about how little there was to do when you weren’t burn-proof. Then he turned up the hall and saw her. She thought one corner of his mouth ticked up, but she couldn’t be sure if it was a smile or just his scars. Furiosa beckoned him with a flick of her head, turned, and briskly walked back away from the armory without checking if he had followed.

A ways away from everyone, she ducked inside the mouth of a little-used tunnel. Soon Slit was there with her, standing respectfully on the other side of the hall. He resolutely kept his eyes on her face, all business.

"What's up, boss?" Normally she would have assumed the breathiness of his voice to be a result of running to catch up, but he shifted nervously and she saw the cause was not quite so far down as his legs.

"About yesterday," she started, and he smiled and closed half the distance between them.

"Yesterday was a good day." He said, then took a ragged breath as his eyes slid over her body.

"Slit, you know it isn't like doing war?"

"I know," he said, taking another step closer, a glint in his eye she would have otherwise described as battle-hungry, "I don't want you to be dead after."

That should not have turned her on the way it did.

"I mean you don't have to do it just because I say." She wanted him to understand. She also wanted him to put his hands all over her.

"No worries, Nux told me."

"Nux?"

"Yeah, told all of us, I think she made him. He said fighting's alright, but if someone tells you stop touching, you have ta stop. Or ask about touching before you even do. Hundreds of days ago. Soon after Joe died. Nux said there were bad things she didn't want happening."

It would have been Capable to think of that right away, not wait for something to go wrong. Explained why the pairings had gone well so far, really. Furiosa wondered that the Council hadn't thought of it in all those hundreds of days. She was drawn back from her thoughts by Slit nuzzling her neck. Why did he like that so much, she wondered. Why did she?

She let out a contented hum and put her cheek against his. The staples were as warm as his skin. He laid a path of gentle kisses up her neck and she turned to meet his mouth with hers. Her arms went up around his neck as he slid his around her waist and growled with desire. Furiosa kissed him deeply. She liked the texture of the scars inside his cheeks, and he definitely seemed to like her liking them. As soon as her tongue touched one, he squeezed her breathless. He noticed and let go.

“Too tight?”

"I like tight," she whispered, pressing her body against his and kissing his jaw. Even on him the smile couldn't be mistaken, as he wrapped his arms back around her, constricting more gradually and watching her face as he did. There was something endearing about the way he watched her, like studying her every detail was the only way he could keep from fucking her right through the stone wall and out the other side. Maybe endearing wasn't the exact word she was thinking of. She pulled his mouth back to hers and didn’t think about anything else for a good long while.


	3. Later, Day 1001

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little Sli-ntrospection and another round of Slit/Furiosa

Slit was hotwired after kissing with Furiosa. He liked it. He really, really liked it. He wanted to keep spending time with her, and doing things to her. He wanted to blow things up for her, or something, he wasn't sure, do something shine that she'd like. Maybe she'd like him to cut something in to her skin. He thought about different designs; car parts, weapons, he'd seen more green thing designs lately, maybe that was more what she'd like? He liked her skin just as well unmarked though, if she didn't want him to cut her. But if she did, he'd do it chrome. Real chrome, she'd be so pleased.

The mess hall had started serving lunch, but hotwired he didn't feel like eating; he felt like doing. He went to the pottery workshop. He'd gotten roped in to helping out there before; processing the clay was actually pretty physically demanding. The Potter in charge set him to bringing up the next load of clay from the clay pit. Shoveling the load, pushing the wheelbarrow, it felt good to use his muscles. Still gave him time to think though. She had said there were other things she hadn't shown him yet, that yesterday he had not actually seen the Living Valhalla, he had just been on his way there. He hoped she would show him some time, wondered what it would be like. Or at least that she would keep kissing him. He wasn't entirely convinced that anything could feel better than what they'd already done. His drain agreed.

Before, he'd hidden when this happened out of fear his "illness" would be found out. Now he knew it wasn't unhealthy, but... He liked that his time with Furiosa was a secret. He'd never done something secret before; War Boys were always together, always all over each other, and he didn't mind it, but he liked having something that was not part of that. Something chrome.

After running the load of clay through the metal mesh to screen out stones and debris, he felt wound down enough to go eat lunch.

\----

Now that the Wretched had real shelters to live in and work to do, an area between the towers had been converted for Lancing practice and other physical activities. The ground there was in shadow all day; an extremely coveted location under Joe's rule, but now it meant even unpainted or ill War Boys could still practice. After lunch Slit ran laps and did obstacle drills before settling in at the lancing range. By the end of his first basket of lances a few Pups had gathered. They usually did. He answered their questions, watched them throw and gave them tips. One was a deadeye, he could tell, good accuracy up close, and when he aimed at targets outside his range his throws landed lined up with the target. It would reflect well on Slit to train up such a promising Lancer. The other Pup though, couldn't hit the broad side of a rig. He seemed frustrated. Strong though.

"What else are you good at?"

The Pup stuck out his chin and thought. "Wrestling."

"Close combat, good, that's useful." Slit took the Pup and showed him how to take someone's knife while grappling with them. Ran through a few holds and tricks for breaking them. When one of the time bells rang, the Pups had to go. Slit grabbed another couple baskets of lances and went back to the practice range. He slammed them through target after target and he couldn't help the smile that stretched his face. This he was shine at.

He was halfway through the second basket when he noticed Furiosa. She often checked in with Boys and Pups here, making sure they were ready to "defend the Citadel in a hostile world". Slit knew he was ready to make war. Whenever she came around Slit always threw a few precise long shots to show her how good he was, made sure any Pups who were around that he was teaching threw well for her too. He always tried to angle himself to her so she could observe that he used perfect form. The Lancer who had trained him when he was a Pup had taught him that accuracy was an extension of proper form, and only by practicing that form could he harness his full strength. Slit remembered the way she had touched his back when they were together and hoped that she could still tell now, without the paint, that his form was perfect.

Furiosa made her rounds of the exercising War Boys and War Pups, probably dispensing her usual mixture of advice and encouragement. Slit's pulse had sped up and he needed all his focus to make his throws, or he would have tried to listen. Still, he was acutely aware of her approach. When she was directly behind him, he chose a target far to one side so she would have the best view of his back. He threw a bullseye. Proud, he turned to face her. He realized once he had that the smile on his face was one that usually instilled fear in whomever it was directed at, but now he wasn't sure what else he could do with his face.

Furiosa nodded at his hit, "Slit, with me." And she left the lancing range.

from her clipped tone he might guess he was in trouble, but as he followed her higher up the Citadel he became more convinced they were headed to her room. As soon as they had crossed the threshold she was on him, grabbing him with both arms, kissing him, slamming the door closed with his body as she backed him up against the wall. Slit was excited by her onslaught and responded in kind, running his hands over her, enjoying the press of her body against his. Once she gave him room to, he cupped her breasts through her shirt, squeezing and rubbing gently.

"I want to-" she kissed him more, "You have to tell me," more kissing, "if you want me to stop."

At this point, Slit was pretty sure she could shred him and it would feel good. She kissed down his neck and on to his chest. "Don't stop," he said. She kissed down his sternum and took a knee in front of him. She gave him a wicked grin, like the first time they were in her room together. Her breathing was already heavy. She eagerly opened the front of his pants and released his stiff drain. He remembered the feel of her grinding against it and hoped she would-oh! Her tongue! She licked him, and it was chrome, oh it was chrome, she was chrome. She did it again and he moaned. It felt good. And then she took his drain in her mouth.

Good oh it was good. She was amazing and she was doing these things to him and oh! And he did not know what to do with his hands. He wanted to touch her, grab her, make her feel as good as he felt, but he doesn't want to disturb her perfect rhythm. He kept his arms away from her, hands clenched up by his shoulders, fingers wiggling within his fists. As she sucked him gloriously, she looked up and saw his hands. She tenderly released him from her mouth. "Are you alright? Do you want me to stop?" She stood and looked him in the face, concerned. He grabbed her and kissed her mouth and down her neck. "Don't stop," he said, still kissing her, still holding her tight, but she didn't point out that he was making it difficult. She grunted in agreement and nibbled his ear.

"Here," she nudged him toward her cot, "Lie down." He let her go and sat to remove his boots. She was too eager to wait and after the first one was off pushed him so he was lying down on the cot, feet still on the floor. She pulled his pants down and off over his bare foot. She lifted his bare leg on to the bed and sunk to her knees on the floor between his legs. She took his drain back in to her mouth and sucked vigorously. She gripped his bare hip with her metal hand. The fingers of her other hand ran down his side and gently traced the lines of his thigh. He held the edges of her cot with a white knuckle grip. She released his drain again and followed the length of it with tiny swirling licks. She was chrome, and this was amazing, and, and-!

His body quaked under her touch. It was the fire of Valhalla all over him, and she was there and she was everything. The fire washed over him, and he understood what she had meant before. He wanted to grab her and hold her and nestle his face in her neck until he died.

He wanted to reach out to her but his body was limp, his limbs shaky and uncompliant. After so many thousands of days working to be able to control every muscle, he lay there, unable to move a single one and couldn't bring himself to care. He watched her as she pulled out a rag, wiped off his stomach, and climbed on to her cot with him. She propped her head up with her metal arm and placed her other hand gently on his chest. He sighed in contentment. "I... You're so chrome." She smiled and kissed his mouth. He kissed her back and managed to move his arm for a gentle embrace.


	4. Days 1002-1006

The next day riders were spotted on Citadel lands, which always triggered a flurry of activity. A half dozen Trainers suddenly had Pups who were ready to be tested up to Boys, who had been ready for a dozen or several dozen days and they just hadn't bothered to schedule a time with her for. Boys and Pups who had been neglecting the practice ground would return in droves. The first time she'd observed this phenomenon, she'd called a meeting and raged to the other Godkillers about the Boys' dereliction of duty. It had been the Dag, Bulfinch she liked to be called now, who had pointed out that this was what their success looked like; Boys and Pups were seeing there was more to life than making war. It had been a hard adjustment to see this burst of activity as a good thing, as their dedication to defend the Citadel and them taking time away from their real life to do it.

Making war had always been her real life, had remained it even after they took over and made their improvements. After a handful of days of only giving Slit a stoic nod at the Lancing range, it occurred to Furiosa that there was something in her life she wanted to fit in around war as well.

\----

She was in her room pouring over some maps of their land writing a plan to do a full sweep which they hadn't for a while. They would check all the known hollows, canyons and boltholes, make sure none of the strangers was settling in in secret. You want to live on Citadel land, you make yourself known, and you do something useful to the Citadel if you want a share of the food or regular access to the aqua cola. Visitors could drink their bellies full and take a bottle with them now, but water on the regular means being part of the Community. She was jarred from her thoughts by a knock at her door.

She stretched as she walked to open it. Slit was there, a bowl of soup in hand. He looked... maybe smaller than usual, and she couldn't name the emotion peeking out from behind his scars. He handed her the bowl of spicy-scented lentil soup studded with carrots, lightly pressing her fingers to make sure she had a solid grip before he let go of the bowl, and unhooking a canteen of water from his belt and clinking it in to her metal hand.

"You almost missed out on lunch," he explained.

She turned to set the food down. She was about to tell him they'd better hurry, since she couldn't spare much time away from her planning, when she turned back to find he was gone.


	5. Morning of Day 1007

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because all work and no play...

Slit and the other War Boys who were chosen for the first part of the sweep were ready to head out well before dawn. His and Nux's car was fueled and stocked with explosive and bare lances. Slit was lounging on the roof chatting with Nux while he did the engine check when Furiosa came over with two Lancers in tow. One of them Slit had trained and had been bumped up from Pup maybe sixty days prior, the other he had seen practicing to be tested a few days ago, and Furiosa instructed that they would be lancing for Nux on the sweep.

She flicked her head for him to follow, and Slit went with her to find out what Driver he would be riding with. Probably another recently tested up Boy; partnering with someone experienced was a big help on your first few runs. He kept his eyes steadily on the back of her head as she walked, avoiding the temptation to admire her body in motion.

"You'll be lancing for me today," she said when they got to her car.

"Yes, boss." He kept his tone even, despite his excitement. Being chosen as her Lancer was a sure sign of her regard for his skill! He couldn't help the smile that spread across his face as he hefted himself on to the perch at the front of her vehicle.

Each car was given a map of their assigned search area and off they went.

\----

She parked in the shadow of another group of rocks and they climbed around and checked it like the others before. They found no one.

"That's our section done," she said with a roll of her shoulders.

When they got back to the car, she told him she had water, invited him to sit in the car with her and drink. It had only been a couple hours but he was parched. He gulped down the water she offered, then watched as she drank more slowly. Furiosa wiped the sweat from her face with a rag from her pocket, then closed her eyes and leaned her head back for a moment. Slit couldn't imagine having to go out in the heat without paint, her skin must be on fire all the time. He reached out and gently ran a finger along the length of her arm. She looked at him, eyebrow raised in a question.

"Your skin, I was just thinking about it being without paint."

"It's always without paint."

"Yes." He retraced the path down her arm with three fingers, and gently takes hold of her hand at the base. "Can I?" She nodded.

Slit brought the hand in front of his face and spread the long fingers to examine them. He smiled; hers was a warrior's hand, strong and scarred and calloused like it should be. He kissed the finger tips, and the knuckles, knobbly from years of brawling, then turned it and kissed the wrist where the blood flowed right under the skin. He looked at her again, and her expression had shifted from the one of indulgence she had had when he asked to see her hand, to one of intense interest, and what he was coming to recognize as want. He reached out to touch her cheek, and her hand swiftly slipped from his loose hold to wrap around the back of his neck and pull his face to hers.

They kissed with a heat to challenge the Wasteland sun. Their hands were all over each other, he cupped her lumps and held her waist and massaged her shoulders and she gripped his upper arm and caressed his spine and squeezed his ass. It felt good. They'd been at it a while when he saw a flicker of movement over Furiosa's shoulder. He glanced, and there was Nux, lance over his shoulder, peering through the window and waving.

"What in V8?" Slit sputtered.

Furiosa looked too. She pushed him from where he was half on top of her and cranked the window down. She seemed so calm, her authority sitting easily on her in a situation where Slit was completely flustered. He tried to move so his stiff drain wouldn't be obvious; he assumed Nux would be familiar with that particular sign of what had been going on.

"Finished our section, waited for you at the meeting point a while. Glad you're ok though. Car need anything?"

Furiosa started the engine. "Running fine."

"Good." Nux paused, "See you back at the Citadel."

He walked away, and Furiosa cranked the window back up.

"I'm sorry, boss."

"Why?"

"I'm your Lancer and someone snuck up on you! I'm mediocre. I, I accept your punishment, whatever consequences you see fit." Slit slumped. He hadn't been punished since before the change, and he had heard the Godkillers didn't approve of heavy beatings, but he was sure any punishment would include an end to Furiosa's touches and attention, and that was worse than some time on the wrong end of the cane.

"Then what do you call a Driver who distracts her Lancer from his job? This time it was one of ours, so no harm done, but we'll have to keep those kinds of distractions inside the Citadel next time, yeah?"

Slit soared. Next time? She said there would be a next time! He wanted to break things for her, skewer a hundred Buzzards on a single lance. "I'll get on my perch!" He jumped out the door and scrambled up onto the small platform anchored to the front, and signaled he was ready to roll.


	6. Later, Day 1007

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More Slit-ntrospection.

On the ride back, Slit considered how best to avoid Nux. Furiosa was the chromest, having everyone know him as her bedmate would be historic, would feel like being Witnessed to Valhalla by the entire Citadel, but he wasn't, not really. Other Boys slept beside the women who chose them; Slit liked having a bunk to himself, but she hadn't even asked him once. He figured it made it easier to keep him a secret, and would be easier to get rid of him when she was done. He might not even get a bite mark he could cut in to a scar to remind him of their time together. He wanted to be with her for as long as he could, so if keeping him secret made her happy... He had to find Nux.

As soon as the car pulled in to the garage Slit jumped off and rushed to find his War Partner. Nux was popping the hood to check the engine over, the two inexperienced Lancers hovering around him for feedback. _More like easy praise_ , Slit thought, when the one backed away on his approach. The Boy Slit had trained stood his ground. It made Slit proud; not every recently promoted Boy was soft.

"He's one of yours? He did good. Alert. No false shots," Nux said, glancing over.

"What did you expect?" He clapped the Lancer on the shoulder, "Go put up those lances."

He scooped up the lances and split them with the other newly promoted Boy, leaving Slit alone with Nux for the moment.

He leaned under the hood and growled, "Not a word to anyone."

Nux turned his head "About what?"

"About F-... About the boss. What you saw, don't say anything!"

"Course not," he shrugged. "Between a woman and her Boy is classified."

Classified. Like a battle maneuver or a rout across the Waste, information only meant for those important enough to know. Slit hadn't thought about it like that. Sounded chrome. He was classified.

"It's good though; you've been shining for her forever so-"

"What?! No I haven't!"

"How many times did you try to get on her crew?"

"You did too! It was the War Rig! Everyone tried to get her to pick them!"

"You used to say her name in your sleep."

"Because I was dreaming about lancing on her rig!"

"You tried to steal my wheel to go after her."

Slit didn't have anything to say to that. (It was kind of remarkable that hadn't come up before now; stealing another Boy's wheel was a pretty serious offense. He had always hoped that Nux just sort of... forgot.)

"I have to put away my gear off the boss's car." Slit strode away. Nux hadn't brought it up in over a thousand days, he'd had plenty of time to come up with a reason. _You were too sick. I wanted to drive. Some dead War Boy bet me I wouldn't._ But none of these excuses would come out of his mouth.

He'd wanted her to see him, to be impressed that he caught her. He'd wanted to hear her say his name in awed surprise, to see her smother the spark of fear when she resolved to kill him. He'd wanted to prove to her that he was better than all the other War Boys, even if he died in the attempt. It was pretty close to how he still felt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Between personal stuff (oof) and working on some original writing (yay!), it took me a while to finish this chapter. 
> 
> You can find me at my tumblr https://www.tumblr.com/blog/dahliavandare

**Author's Note:**

> I want to polish my smut skills, so feedback is much appreciated.
> 
> \----
> 
> Oh man, I totally have a tumblr now  
> http://dahliavandare.tumblr.com/


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